Love for Sale
by McGleeky
Summary: Modern AU: Detective Elsa Winters has had her fair share of hardships and tragedy, but nothing has prepared her for the case of her life as she crosses paths with an aimless and broken prostitute, Anna Arendelle. Rated M for mature themes (description inside) and language. Eventual Elsanna (non-incest) and some Belsa (Belle and Elsa).
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** So I got the idea for this fic from Idina Menzel's performance of "Love for Sale/Roxanne" from her Barefoot at the Symphony show. If you haven't heard, you should definitely listen to it. It's so good.

This is also my first rated M fic.

**TW**: Alcoholism, mentions of rape, some drug abuse, mentions of physical abuse. A lot of them are for later chapters, so I'm just putting them out there.

Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen or Disney or anything of that nature.

Flashbacks in italics.

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><p><strong>Chapter One:<strong>

The alarm jolts Elsa into consciousness. After last night, her sleep was anything but peaceful. Blankets were strewn across the bed and the neck of the now empty whiskey bottle was tucked under her neck. With one swift motion, she swipes the alarm clock off her nightstand, across the room; the plug pulled out of its socket, silencing it indefinitely.

She rolls over onto her back and rubs her eyes, in attempt to push the hangover away. Last night left its mark on her and her girlfriend, or was it ex-girlfriend? At this point, she could understand if Belle didn't want anything to do with her anymore.

_ The slap across Elsa's face echoed and was followed by a tense silence. The anger bubbled up inside of Elsa until her face was beet red and her jaw clenched tightly. _

_ "Elsa, I'm sorry," Belle started, "but you needed that. You need to be pushed back into reality. You're just out of your mind lately. I'm sorry that I had to hit you, but you're starting to scare me. I mean, look around you!" Belle gestured to the scene around them: the living room was a disaster zone with the cushions of the couch scattered across the floor; picture frames hanging off the wall in disarray; lamps knocked over; glass shattered on the floor; the mirror on the wall shattered and the center dripping with blood…Elsa's bloody fists hanging at her sides. _

_ Elsa had half a mind to hit Belle back, but deep down she knew she'd regret it. Belle wasn't far from the truth; Elsa has been losing it lately. The alcohol had already taken her as its prisoner. _

_ "I've had enough of this shit!" Elsa yelled in a rough voice, startling Belle. She grabbed Belle by the shoulders and pushed her against the wall. "If you can't handle this, handle me, or handle whatever the fuck, then there's the door! No one's asking you to stay! I don't need you! I have enough to deal with without you pointing out my flaws or jumping down my throat about everything!" Belle stared hard into Elsa's crazed, dilated eyes. Elsa panted hard and didn't break contact with Belle's eyes, waiting for her to say something. Belle grabbed Elsa's wrists and squeezed them._

_ "Elsa, I can smell the alcohol on you. This isn't you. You just need to stop, okay? Let me help you get better. I love you, Elsa, please," tears rolled down Belle's face with her plea. Elsa's head fell and she just stared at the floor, still holding Belle. She knew she was right, but she couldn't bring herself to admit it, at least not out loud. Everything was just fucked up._

_ "I don't need your love," Elsa whispered, "Just leave. GO!" With that she let go of Belle, ignoring her pleas and stalked off to the bedroom, grabbing the whiskey bottle from the counter as she went, leaving Belle in despair behind her._

Elsa sat up in her bed and leaned against the headboard. She grabbed the empty whiskey bottle from the bed and placed it on her nightstand. She then swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a good five minutes, thinking about nothing. The room was also a disaster. After last night, everything was a disaster. The clothes from her closet now occupied the floor and the items that once inhabited the surface of her dresser were strewn across the floor, some where even shattered. Even the frames that were once on her wall were shattered. Every last one of them. Only one remained untouched: a picture of her and her late sister, Astrid.

Astrid and Elsa were inseparable, despite Elsa being 8 years older. Astrid had just finished university when her life ended unexpectedly, sending Elsa into the spiral of despair she's still in a year later. The picture was of her and Astrid at Astrid's graduation from Columbia University, one of the happiest days of both their lives.

Elsa got up from the bed and stumbled to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Elsa is a detective for the NYPD, and has been a homicide detective for the last five years, but hasn't been to an actual crime scene in six months. She's been desk-ridden ever since an incident involving a murder of a young girl and her "encounter" with the suspect in the interrogation room. Let's just say he was in a coma for 2 weeks after, and later found guilty in court. So since then she's been out of the action and knee-deep in paperwork boredom every day. And since her sister's death, she's found herself at the bottom of a bottle by the end of every weekend.

Elsa emerged from the bathroom fresh and obviously hung-over: the bags under her eyes just highlighted the bloodshot look in her eyes. Her hair was pulled back neatly in a ponytail, wavy due to her usual braided look. She rifled through the clothes on the floor for her usual black pantsuit, finding it by the door wrinkled, but wearable. She threw it on and finished her look by fastening her badge to her belt. Taking one last look in the mirror, Elsa opened the door and walked out into the living room, ignoring the mess and proceeded to grab her keys from the counter and walked out the door.

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><p>Elsa walked into the police station and made her way to the elevators. She pressed the "up" button and waited for the elevator. A hand on her shoulder startled her.<p>

"Whoa, easy there," a familiar voice said, "I didn't mean to startle you there, Elsa." Elsa shrugged off Kristoff's hand and gave him a slight smile.

"You didn't startle me, I'm just tired," Elsa replied. "I didn't get much sleep last night." The elevator ding announced its arrival and both detectives walked onto it. Elsa pushed the button for the third floor and stood with her arms crossed.

"So…" Kristoff started. "Rough night?" He gestures to her red and bruised knuckles.

"It's nothing, Kristoff. Just leave me alone, please." Kristoff just shrugged it off and kept quiet for the rest of the elevator ride. Once the doors opened, Elsa heard a voice.

"Winters!" the voice boomed. "Get in here, please." It was the Captain. Elsa had been called into his office a million times before, hardly ever for a pleasant chat. She's sure this time wouldn't be any different. Before Elsa could set a foot towards the Captain's office, Kristoff grabbed her arm.

"You might want this," he said, offering her a couple mints. Elsa raised an eyebrow at him, not amused.

"Now's not the time for jokes, Bjorgman," Elsa pulled her arm away, but he stopped her again.

"It's not a joke," he hissed. "Your breath reeks of alcohol. The least you could do is try and mask it." He shoved the mints into her hands. She plopped them into her mouth with a red face and made her way to the office.

She opened the door and stood at the doorway, chewing at the mints. The Captain looked up from his desk and gestured for her to take a seat. Elsa sat down and folded her hands in her lap, in attempt to make the bruises less obvious. The Captain got up from his desk and shut the door. He made his way back to his desk and sat down, taking his time, drawing it out. He took off his glasses and placed them on the papers he was working on.

"Elsa," he started. "I called you in here today to ask how you're doing. It's been awhile since we've talked and I felt that it's time to check up on how things are going with you." Elsa's mind flashed to countless nights of her at trashy bars drinking her problems away; her and Belle in screaming matches; Elsa throwing things at walls and waking up hung-over, just to start the cycle all over again.

"Everything's fine, Captain," Elsa lied. The Captain nodded, but he could see right through her, knowing very well that everything wasn't fine. He decided to test her.

"Your last case didn't go so well," he pushed, which caught Elsa's attention. She looked up from her hands to see him opening a file. He turned the pages until he found what he was looking for. "I'm sure you remember: 'Caucasian female, early twenties, murdered…Suspect: male, Caucasian, late twenties…' It seemed to be going well until we caught the guy. A day later he's in a coma and you're in trouble with Internal Affairs." Elsa's jaw clenched and she stared him down, daring him to go where she knew he was going to go next.

"I swear," Elsa said. "If you bring up Astrid into this…" She balled her hands into fists and sat up a little straighter.

"Elsa, relax," he raised his hands and lowered his voice. "I wouldn't. But you do need to be honest with me: are you ready to get back to work?" This surprises Elsa. She widens her eyes. She did not think for a second that she'd be getting back to work so soon.

"I-I feel ready, sir," she stated, even though part of her knew she was most definitely not ready, yet. The Captain nodded and stood up, Elsa did the same, but with shaky legs. The Captain opened a drawer and pulled out a gun in a holster: Elsa's gun. He stuck out one empty hand to shake hers and handed her her gun with the other.

"Welcome back, Winters."

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><p><span><strong>AN:** So Elsa is 31 in this fic, btw.

Reviews are always welcome. I hope y'all like it so far.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

Elsa walked out of the Captain's office, gun holstered on her hip. It almost felt out of place and heavier than she remembered. Her stomach started doing flips and she felt uneasy. The last time she had a gun on her hip, she was beating the living daylights out of a murderer in the interrogation room just down the hall. She walked over to her desk, ignoring the stares and whispers from other detectives. The gossip was just beginning.

Elsa took a seat at her desk in the far corner by the window, which had a view of the front of the building: cars passed by and so did people walking on the sidewalk. She looked down at them and wondered what their lives were like. Were they as dark and twisty as hers felt? Have they lost people they love? A voice jostled her out of her thoughts.

"Ya know, with sweat dripping off your face like that, you'd think you'd just run a marathon, even though it's freezing both outside and in here. You're not on drugs are you?" Elsa looked up as to who it was: Hans Westergaard, a fellow detective, but thankfully not in her same field. Hans made himself comfortable and sat on the edge of her desk, arms crossed with a smirk plastered on his face.

"Very funny, Hans," Elsa got up to get a drink of water from the water fountain in the hall by the elevators, hoping to get Hans off her back. Yet, Hans followed her.

"Oooh, looks like this desk-jockey get her groove back," Hans jested, eyeing her gun on her hip as she leant down to take a sip of water. "Don't get too comfortable; you're bound to kill the next suspect one day or another." With that, Elsa straightened up and started toward Hans, who was leaning on the wall next to the water fountain. Just as she was about to tear Hans a new one, Kristoff interrupted.

"Hey, partner," he said, holding up his cell phone and put himself between Elsa and Hans. "We got a case. So we'd best get a move on, right Elsa?" He raised his eyebrows at her.

"Right," Elsa said through clenched teeth. Kristoff pushed the button of the elevator and stepped in as the doors opened. Elsa followed suit and stood next to him. As the doors closed, Elsa could see Hans giving her a wink and a wave. The doors were then shut completely and Elsa's heart was pounding in her chest.

"Good thing I got there when I did," Kristoff breathed out. "It looked like you were about to kill him." Elsa has had enough of people talking about death and killing. For a moment, she felt as if she'd joined the wrong profession.

"Funny," Elsa drones. "So how was your weekend?" Kristoff raises his eyebrows in surprise at her change in demeanor.

"It was fine. Ariel and I went to the movies and went Christmas shopping. How was yours? And how's Belle, by the way?" The elevator dinged and the doors opened to the station lobby. They both got off and started walking toward the doors.

"It was…uneventful," she lied. "And Belle's fine, thanks for asking." She actually didn't know if she was fine, especially after last night. She didn't even know if Belle got home alright. She didn't have a text or anything on her phone. Elsa's best guess was that Belle wanted nothing to do with her. Kristoff opened the door for Elsa and the both were outside, braving the cold. They made their way around the corner to where Kristoff's car was parked when they ran into…

"Speak of the devil…" Elsa whispered to herself. Belle was standing in front of them, eyes wide and cheeks rosy from the cold. She was bundled up in a coat and scarf.

"Elsa…" Belle said, surprised to see her. "I was just gonna leave a message for you at your work. Hi, Kristoff." Kristoff nodded at her and smiled. He stepped away from them, giving them some privacy. Elsa was steel-faced and incredibly uncomfortable.

"Are you alright, Elsa? I'm sorry about last night-" Belle stopped, her eyes were looking at something other than Elsa's. The gun on Elsa's hip caught her eye. "You're back on the job? They gave you your gun back? Elsa, do you think that's what's good for you right now?" Belle stepped forward and lowered her voice, "I mean, with your drinking problem and all?" This set Elsa off.

"I don't…!" Elsa then lowered her voice as she noticed the bystanders, alarmed by her shout, "have a drinking problem." Elsa looked at Belle and her eyes softened.

"Look, Belle," she started. "Last night was bad, for both of us. I'm sorry it happened, but I don't care anymore. I have a case to work on, so what's your message?" Elsa was getting impatient, so Belle just gave her the note in her hand and handed it to Elsa.

"When you want help, you'll know where to find me. I love you, Elsa." Belle kissed her on the cheek and walked off in the opposite direction. Elsa took the note and stuffed it in her pocket. She walked over to the car and got in the passenger side. Kristoff was already inside and has the car running.

"Everything cool?" He asked as he ran his fingers through his blond locks. Elsa just nodded and buckled her seatbelt.

"So where are we headed?"

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><p><strong>AN: **Sorry that this one is a bit shorter than the first. There's still more to come. I might not be able to update on at a fast pace since I'm in University and have papers/essays to do, so just hang in there.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** So sorry about the delay. I've been swamped with school work and finals and I just couldn't find the time to write, plus I've had a bit of a block. I'm gonna try and update at least twice a week, but if not, sorry for the wait, in advance.

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><p><strong>Chapter Three:<strong>

Elsa leaned her head against the window of the car, vibrations rattling her brain as she thought of Belle and how they left things the night before. Elsa did truly feel horrible about how she treated Belle over these past few months. Elsa tucked her hand into her pocket, feeling for the note Belle had given her, before deciding that it would be best to read it alone.

"So…" Kristoff spoke, breaking the silence of the car ride, "you feeling good? Confident?" Elsa turned her head towards him and narrowed her eyes.

"What?" She hissed. "You think I can't handle a case? I've been away, yeah, but I'm a big girl; I can handle some murder cases. It is my job after all." She turned her head back towards the window and watched the buildings of the city pass by.

"Sorry," Kristoff apologized, "I didn't mean to upset you. I was just asking. And you know what, Elsa? I'm really gonna need you to tone it down some. And stop drinking so much. I get that you've been stuck in a rut for these past few months, but getting wasted every weekend isn't gonna get you anywhere."

The car begins to slow as they approach the scene of the crime. Kristoff parks the car outside of what appears to be an apartment building. A couple of police officers are standing at the entrance where the doorway is taped off with standard yellow police tape. Elsa unbuckles her seatbelt, but before she gets out of the car she turns to Kristoff.

"Listen, Bjorgman," she starts, "I've had about enough of people telling me what to do. I get that you're looking out for me, but enough. And 'a rut'? You call my sister getting murdered and my being depressed about it 'a rut'?" Kristoff opens his mouth to correct her, but Elsa keeps going.

"I get my behavior has been less than proper, but I'm dealing with it as best as I can. I already have Belle down my throat about this shit; I don't need another person to do the same. So, let's get this crime scene over with so I can go home and sleep." With that she gets out of the car and slams the door in Kristoff's face. With a stony expression, Elsa makes her way into the apartment building, with Kristoff not that far behind.

* * *

><p>"Alright, what do we got here?" Elsa asked the medical examiner as she pulled on her purple latex gloves. She walked over to Dr. Howser, who was currently crouched down next to the victim taking a look at her wounds.<p>

"Well," he started, looking at the woman's face, "it seems, based on these bruises," he pointed to her cheek and eyes, "that she was attacked, but not right before she was killed. These bruises were healing, so she was attacked a week or so ago; maybe more. She has defensive wounds on her arms, but that's just speculation for the moment. She was shot four times: twice in the head, obviously fatally, and twice in the chest. In my lab I will be able to gather more information of course. Time of death: sometime in the last 24 hours, which is a bit of a ballpark number. I can get you all a more definite time after an autopsy."

"Where are the other victims?" Elsa asks. Dr. Howser gets up and motions for the detectives to follow him. They weave their way through bullet casings and broken glass into a run-down bathroom, or what's left of it. The mirror has been shattered and the cracks are lined with blood and some strands of red hair. The floor is riddled with bullet casings and the walls practically painted with blood. In the tub lies a dead, half-naked woman with bullet holes on every inch of her torso and two in her head. By the toilet lies another half-naked, dead woman with similar gunshot wounds.

"Well…" Kristoff sighs, "Looks like we have our work cut out for us: triple homicide."

"Well it's possible that it's the same guy, considering the two shots to the head on each victim," Elsa states. "I'm guessing these were ladies of the night, considering their choice of apparel, but that's just an assumption."

"We also found drugs in the living room and bedroom. And you're not wrong about these girls being prostitutes. We found one of the victim's IDs and ran it by your guys: she's been arrested before for prostitution," Dr. Howser stated.

"This could be drug-related or business of sorts," Kristoff said, "I'm gonna take a look around." He left the bathroom and made his way back to the living room. Elsa hangs around in the bathroom looking at the victims. She looks at the mirror, at her broken reflection, when something catches her eye.

"None of these victims have red hair," Elsa says, "Yet, there's red hair here," Elsa points to the broken mirror.

"Good catch, Detective Winters," Dr. Howser says, pulling a crime scene bag from his pocket and placing the hair inside, "Maybe his or her DNA happens to be in the system."

"My guess is that he or she was here at the time of the attack, had his or her head bashed into this mirror, before he or she either escaped or was taken hostage by the assailant or assailants."

"I would like to assume that this person is a female, due to the length of the hair, but nowadays, who knows?" Dr. Howser says, as he steps out of the bloodied bathroom.

Elsa took one last look around the bathroom, checking for any signs or clues that could give her another lead. She took one last look at the cracked mirror, looking just like the one she shattered back in her apartment, blood and all. Elsa gives the mirror one last glance and makes her way out the bathroom.

* * *

><p>An hour or so later, Kristoff and Elsa are back at the precinct, going over the case and tying leads and clues together.<p>

"So," Kristoff breathes out, "so far we have no suspects, which is always a fun start to any case. The neighbors seemed a bit jumpy when I asked them if they saw anything, so I'm guessing the people who did this are a big deal in those parts of the city." He flips through his interview notes before tossing it back onto the table.

"Yeah, it did seem that way. I think the first thing we need to do is find this mystery victim," Elsa suggests, holding up the picture of the shattered mirror. Kristoff looks confused. Elsa scoffs.

"There was a red hair caught in the cracks of the mirror," Elsa says, "and none of the victims present at the scene had long red hair; I'm guessing this person was attacked and was either taken by the people who did this or this person escaped and is out there in the city somewhere." Elsa puts the picture down and takes a seat at the table.

Kristoff walks over to the board, where the pictures of the victims were hung up, along with some other pieces of evidence. He glances over the pictures and points to the gunshot wounds.

"Why two shots to the head? And why so many to the torso? You'd think that two to the head would be enough."

"Maybe he wanted to be thorough…?" Elsa wondered out loud. Elsa wasn't feeling it. Her head's starting to ache and this case is already complex enough for her taste, especially for her first day back in the field and not behind a desk all day.

"C'mon, Els," Kristoff groans, "I need you to be on point here. I can't figure this shit out on my own. You know I'm not smart enough." He grins at her. Elsa rubs her temples and walks over to Kristoff's side to get a better view of the pictures.

"Fine." Elsa looks over the pictures one by one, taking in every detail. Each gunshot to the head seems to be perfectly distanced from one another and perfectly aligned to the other. The shots to the torso, however, were sloppy and all over the place.

"The shots to the head are symmetrical to one another," Elsa points to the victim's heads, "and the ones on their torsos are just all over the place. Maybe two killers? One with a knack for perfection and another that's carefree? I mean, it could just be one killer who just does things a certain way. The neighbors told you they didn't really hear shots right?" Kristoff nods. "Well maybe they're lying or maybe the killers used silencers. The bullet casings seem to be a small caliber. We'll just need Dr. Howser's autopsy reports to confirm any of this." Kristoff nods and smiles at Elsa. She returns the smile. The moment was interrupted by someone clapping behind them. Hans.

"Wow," Hans says with a smirk, "it's like Elsa's back to her normal self. You really tore through that one, huh?" He steps closer to them. Elsa takes a step back, restraining herself. The last time they interacted, she nearly decked him.

"Hans, don't you have work to get to?" Kristoff asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Hans grins at him.

"Actually, I do. I just wanted to check on our favorite blonde, here. You know, just to see how she's doin'." He winks at Elsa. "Want to make sure she's not gonna blow up or hurt somebody around here." Elsa takes a step forward, seething.

"I think that you should get back behind your desk and get your shit done, Westergaard." Elsa has just about had it with him. Hans holds his hands up and chuckles. He makes his way out of the room and goes back to his work. Elsa regains control of herself and turns back to the pictures.

"What a douche," says Kristoff.

"Agreed," grumbles Elsa.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four:**

Kristoff and Elsa spent the next few hours checking the database for any similar murder cases: two gunshots to the head, a mess of shots to the rest of the body, female victims, and whatever else they deemed significant, like drug relations.

"Hey!" Kristoff yelled from his computer, gaining the attention of everyone on the floor. "Uh, sorry. Elsa! I found a match to our case." Elsa got up from her desk and walked around her desk to take a look at Kristoff's screen.

"Let's hear it, Bjorgman," Elsa said. Kristoff paused before speaking.

"Okay, so the thing is…it's the case that kinda got you…booted to desk-work. So…yeah." Elsa clenched her jaw.

"I should've skipped work today," Elsa attempted to make a joke, but Kristoff didn't react. "So the Victoria Jensen case, then?" Kristoff nodded and clicked the window on the screen to expand. He had highlighted the areas where the present case and the Jensen case had similarities.

"Two gunshots to the head; drug related; silencer involvement. The murder even took place around the same area that our current case is in." Elsa wasn't feeling too great; this case really had an impact on her, being the most similar case to that of her sister's.

"Look, Elsa," Kristoff said in a concerned tone, looking at Elsa, "I could get someone else on this case if it's too much for you. I could run it by the Captain…" Elsa shook her head.

"No, no. It's fine. If anything, I _need _to do this." Kristoff nodded and turned back to his computer screen. "So I get these cases have similarities, but the guy that killed Victoria is in jail. He confessed _to me_ and was found guilty. He's been in jail and is gonna be for a long freakin' time. He could've lied about it, but…" Elsa trailed off.

"I think we should see him, get more info," Kristoff suggested. "Maybe he has people on the outside. Maybe he's got a gang. He was probably part of a team, or the Mob." Kristoff leaned back into his chair, crossing him arms. Elsa bit her lip and crossed her arms as well, staring at the screen.

"Call the prison," Elsa said. "Tell them we'd like to talk to Alexander Addington."

* * *

><p>The prison was near the edge of the city, by the river, with round-the-clock security boats and towers, of course. Six months ago, Elsa and Kristoff closed the case on Victoria Jensen case, putting her murderer away for a long time. That was the case that threw Elsa into desk work for six months. The case was the first case that reminded her of her sister's murder, which threw her into a spiral of rage and depression. Night after night Elsa would pour over the evidence and clues and drown any emotion with gin and whiskey. Every suspect would get at least a black eye from her. She would've done anything and everything to find Victoria's murderer.<p>

What ate at Elsa even more was that Astrid's murder was never solved. It's still open; a cold case.

Kristoff had called the prison an hour ago and the prison had Alexander Addington ready by the next hour. Kristoff pulled the car into the lot and both detectives got out.

"So I guess this will be interesting," Elsa said, closing the car door while wiping the sweat from her brow. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, but she was nervous and really wanting a drink, badly.

"Look, this is gonna be just like any other interview, okay," Kristoff made his way around the car to Elsa and they both made their way into the prison. "We just need some information from him, and that's it. Nothing more, nothing less. I don't wanna make this into another issue." Elsa nodded at him and clenched her jaw.

"Detectives," the guard at the security gate greeted them. "You know the drill." Both detectives checked their weapons and left it with the guards and passed through the metal detector. A guard at the end of the hall unlocked the gate and let them pass. Another guard proceeded to lead them through another hall into the holding area where a lone prisoner was: Alexander Addington. Alexander's eyes locked onto Elsa's.

"You've gotta be shittin' me," he huffed. Both detectives neared the table where he was chained to and took a seat opposite of him. Kristoff was the first to speak.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Addington. We're here today because we have some things to ask you about a certain case." Alexander scoffed at him.

"I'm pretty sure this bitch beat it outta me last time. So I got nuthin' to say to ya," he eyed Elsa as she stared him down.

"Well, this 'bitch' has more questions and I won't hesitate to beat it out of you again if you don't cooperate." Elsa was calm with her words, but seething on the inside.

"We have a case that's very similar to the one you were involved with. We were just wondering if you have people on the outside, doing your dirty work for you while you're in here until you get out. Or if you were a part of a team that's still working after all this time. Which is it? Or is it something different?" Kristoff crossed his arms, waiting for a reply. Alexander wasn't looking at him though; he was looking straight at Elsa.

"I don't feel like talking," he spat, "especially with this one over here." He pointed his finger at Elsa and she immediately grabbed it and twisted it, causing Alexander to yell out in pain.

"Well you're gonna have to." Elsa was about to break his finger until Kristoff jabbed her in the side, pushing her to let him go. She let his finger go. Alexander rubbed at it and clenched his jaw.

"Look, I did what I did and now I'm doin' my time for it."

"Maybe you could be doing less time, if you help us. I'm sure I could smooth some things over for you," Kristoff suggested, leaning forward. This caught Alexander's attention, and enraged Elsa. She pulled Kristoff close and whispered so only he could hear.

"What the fuck are you doing, Bjorgman? This piece of shit doesn't deserve that," she hissed.

"Relax, I know what I'm doing," he replied.

"How much time are we talking here? Ten, fifteen years shaved off?" Alexander leaned forward, fiddling his thumbs. Elsa sat back and scoffed.

"Not a chance, Addington," she spat. Kristoff pulled Elsa close.

"Maybe you should stand outside. I'm not gonna get anything outs this guy if you're gonna be difficult like this."

"Well excuse me then," Elsa sat up abruptly, knocking the chair over. She turned towards the door and made her way out into the hall.

* * *

><p>An hour passed and Elsa was still pacing the hall outside the holding cell. Elsa couldn't believe Kristoff. She knew this case was gonna be difficult, but he didin't need to practically bribe Addington for information, especially with things he'll never deserve. Elsa wanted Addington to be in there for life, but not as much as she wanted him tortured and killed. She really needed a drink right about now.<p>

As if on cue, Kristoff emerged from the room with a sly grin on his face. Elsa could almost vomit.

"Well, I hope you're pleased with yourself," Elsa spat sarcastically, "because now we have to give him less time for information that's probably not even worth a damn."

"Elsa, come on," Kristoff said. "You really think I'm gonna let that guy walk outta here in the next, what, 5 years? Please. I said I'd shave off some time, but I never told him how much." Elsa raised her eyebrows, urging him to continue. "I'm shaving off a month from his time here. Not much of a big impact if you ask me. Plus that's just insinuating that he even makes it that long. The guy's pretty up in age." Elsa scoffs.

"Please. He's forty, at least."

"Whatever." They made their way to the prison's exit, reclaimed their weapons and made their way out to the car.

"So what'd you get out of him?" Elsa asked, in regards to the case information.

"Not much, but he did say he was part of a team of some sort, saying the job was drug-related. He said he worked with a pair of brothers, both skilled in guns and stuff like that. He said that Victoria wasn't supposed to die, but she got in the way." That didn't make Elsa feel any better. They got in the car and made their way back to the precinct.

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><p><span><strong>AN:** Thanks for reading and the nice reviews. Feel free to leave one. I'm glad y'all like the story so much. I'll update as soon as possible.

Thanks :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five:**

Back at the station, Elsa and Kristoff sorted out their new information on the board; tying each lead to the next. Of course, their biggest pieces of information were missing: suspect, the "why", and stuff along those lines.

The sun disappeared from the sky; Elsa hadn't noticed, as she went through her notes and kept looking to and from the board from her chair. Kristoff had left the room and was at his desk, gathering his things, done for the day. He made his way back to Elsa.

"I think I'm gonna head out," he said. "I don't wanna get home too late." Elsa nodded at him and they said their goodbyes. Before he walked out, he said one more thing:

"You should probably head home too; not get too stressed before tomorrow. Plus…Belle." Before Elsa could respond, he was out the door. She totally forgot about Belle.

Elsa pursed her lips and pushed her notes away. She leaned back in her chair and looked at the board, riddled with pictures of the dead women and pages with case information on them. She thought of how simple cases are compared to her own life. With cases like these, it was simple to make sense of them: how one thing leads to another and questions are answered. With her own life, however, she'd never make sense out of. She'd never know why she is the way she is; why Belle puts up with her; why her sister was taken from her; why anything. She dug her hand into her pocket, pulling the note from Belle out. She unfolded it and read its contents:

_To Elsa,_

_ I understand that losing you sister was quite possibly the most difficult thing you've ever experienced, but your behavior in this past year has been rather inexplicable. Grief is one thing, but drinking yourself into the ground and hurting those around you is another thing. I miss Astrid too and I am so truly sorry for what happened to her. It may not be my place, but I know she wouldn't want you so torn up about this, especially for this long. She loved you. And I love you._

_ I want you to know, that no matter how dark it gets or how difficult things get, I will always be there for you, in whatever way you need. I love you, Elsa._

_-Belle_

_P.S. - I'm sorry, again, for hitting you last night. That was uncalled for and I feel horrible about it. _

Elsa always thought Belle was way too good for her. This just proves that she was right.

* * *

><p>Elsa walked down the hall to her apartment door and took out her keys to go inside. She put her hand on the handle of the door and pushed the key into the hold, but the door was already unlocked. Elsa froze. Had she not locked her door this morning? Did someone break in?<p>

Elsa put her keys back into her pocket and took her gun out of its holster. She slowly opened the door and readied herself. As she walked into the apartment and looked around the living room, she didn't see any sign of a disturbance, except for the fact that her apartment was already a mess; one that she caused.

She continued to look in the other rooms, finding nothing. She made her way to the last room, her bedroom, and threw the door open. She pointed her gun at someone on the bed.

"Jesus Christ!" It was Belle. "Elsa! What's the matter with you?!" Elsa sighed heavily and put her gun down.

"The door was unlocked. I locked it this morning, I'm sure. I just thought someone had broken in or something. Sorry." Elsa leaned against the doorframe and holstered her gun. She undid her ponytail and ran her hands through her hair. She was tired.

Belle got up from the bed and walked over to Elsa. Elsa noticed that she had cleaned the bedroom up some. Belle stood in front of Elsa with a concerned look.

"What?" Elsa whispered. Belle gave her a sad smile and caressed her cheek.

"I'm just worried about you is all. I hope your cheek doesn't hurt anymore." Elsa shook her head. Belle looked down at Elsa's poorly bandaged hand. "Does that hurt?"

"It looks worse than it is. Nothing a shot of whiskey can't fix," Elsa jested. Belle gave her a look.

"Come on," Belle said, as she led Elsa to the kitchen. "Lemme take a look at it."

* * *

><p>Belle and Elsa sat on the stools at the kitchen counter. Belle had her first aid kit opened in front of her. She laid out the supplies that Elsa's hand required. She had a very calm, yet stern look on her face.<p>

"I, um, I read your note," Elsa said, breaking the silence. Belle froze up for a moment, but continued her work. She took Elsa's hand and dabbed some antiseptic on it. Elsa winced.

"Well everything I wrote in there," Belle said, "I mean it. I really do, Elsa." Belle cleaned Elsa's cuts and put some bandaged on them. "Now, uh, you're gonna wanna take it easy with this hand. So don't go punching anymore mirrors…or people…or anything, really." Elsa smiled at her. Belle returned the smile, but quickly got up and got two glasses from the kitchen cabinet.

"Want something to drink or eat?" She asked. Elsa's smile dropped.

"I think you know very well what I'd like to drink, but you'd probably not let me have any, now would you?" Belle narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. She turned to the cabinet over the refrigerator, reached up and grabbed the bottle inside of it. She turned back towards Elsa and the glasses and poured its contents into them.

"I don't think one drink is gonna mess anything up. For now, at least." She pushed a glass towards Elsa and held up her own. They clinked glasses. Elsa raised her eyebrows as she took a sip.

"Hmm, gin."

"Blurgh," Belle protested, "yeah, yuck." Elsa chuckled.

"You always were the light drinker." Elsa took another sip as Belle put hers down. She had a serious look on her face.

"Elsa, we need to talk," she said. Elsa nodded.

"Yes, I believe we do."


End file.
